


of what sweetness still remains

by adamantine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Cheating, Keith/Others - Freeform, M/M, Not A Full Fix-It (because I don't tackle Allura), Season 8 compliant, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Large Cock, Shiro/Dude He Married, Top Shiro (Voltron), mentions of - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 02:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19844086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamantine/pseuds/adamantine
Summary: The mission runs longer than expected. A storm hits, knocking out power in the small village and causing a landslide near the orphanage. Keith stays to help with the cleanup, despite Acxa’s insistence that they can handle it without him. The chance to go home before the reunion is gone by the time they finish. He cuts it close enough that he doesn’t even have the time to change out of his Blade uniform before he makes his way to Altea.OR: Keith decides to sleep with a married man even though it's only going to break his heart.





	of what sweetness still remains

**Author's Note:**

> I took a break from writing S8 angst to write more S8 angst. nice going me.

The mission runs longer than expected. A storm hits, knocking out power in the small village and causing a landslide near the orphanage. Keith stays to help with the cleanup, despite Acxa’s insistence that they can handle it without him. The chance to go home before the reunion is gone by the time they finish. He cuts it close enough that he doesn’t even have the time to change out of his Blade uniform before he makes his way to Altea.

A collection of ships are already parked in the castle courtyard when Keith lands. Two are Garrison issued, one is an Altean workship, and one is an Earth-made private sector ship with the words _Hunk’s Intergalactic Eatery_ emblazoned across the side in six different languages. His ship is the smallest of the bunch, a sleek Galra number built for speed. Of course, it doesn’t matter how fast his ship is if he doesn’t leave in time. Keith is late, which isn’t an unforgivable crime but it does rob him of the chance of finding a spot in the castle to hide in while the rest of the Paladins arrive. They’re already here. He saw them waiting outside as he landed.

Keith tugs at the shoulders of his uniform as his ship’s entry ramp descends. He’s a disgusting sweaty mess. His hair is coming out of its braid and his uniform is caked with mud, but at least he can say he doesn’t smell. Zethrid would have said something if he did.

“Keith!” Pidge jumps at him, forcing him into a crushing hug. “Gross, you’re all sweaty.” She makes a gagging sound but doesn’t let him go.

“Sorry, I just came from a mission.”

“Hey, Mullet.”

Keith has given up pointing out that even if _maybe_ his hairstyle at one point could have passed as a mullet, it definitely doesn’t now.

“Good to see you, buddy.” Hunk claps him on the back; probably because he can’t squeeze past Pidge for a hug.

Coran claps his hands together. “Welcome! Excellent timing, dinner is almost ready.”

“Keith.” Keith hopes Pidge doesn’t notice how he stiffens when that final voice calls out to him, softer than the rest.

“Hey.” Keith stares down at the field of flowers their ships are crushing as he pulls away from Pidge.

“You look—you look good,” Shiro says.

Keith tucks a strand of stray hair behind his ear and looks up, meeting Shiro’s eyes. The glasses covering them startle him but the new look isn’t unappealing; he feels his face warm pathetically in response. “I haven’t had a real shower in days and I’m covered in mud.”

Shiro gestures at him. “Still, this uniform suits you.”

_Oh._ This is Shiro’s first time seeing him in the Blade’s leadership garb. It’s not new; Keith was promoted over three years ago but in that time he hasn’t seen Shiro outside of their annual reunion on Altea. They talk sometimes, message each other, but never does it involve video. Sometimes, Keith sends Shiro pictures, usually of the places he’s traveling to, and Shiro will send him something more mundane back—a mug with bunny ears, the neighbor’s cat, the sunset from Shiro’s balcony—but they avoid sending pictures of themselves.

“How’s Curtis?” Keith asks to be polite.

Shiro fiddles with the cuff of his sleeve. “He’s good.”

“That’s great,” Keith says, his throat tight.

Dinner passes by in a blur. Allura’s statue looms over them, lifeless and unchanging. Keith shoves down thoughts of a day when they won’t all be here for the reunion. He’s not sure what his Galra genes might have done to his lifespan, but he’s not optimistic enough to think it’s nothing. Not with how he feels like he’s never aged at the same rate as everyone else.

They take their customary picture in front of Allura’s statue and with that, the reunion is officially over. Keith is relieved for multiple reasons, but the most relevant one is that it means he can finally take a shower.

Hot water pours over his weary limbs as he slowly untangles his hair. The shower on his ship is nowhere near as strong as the one in the castle; the Galra preferred baths, a habit he still isn’t accustomed to. Baths feel time-wasting, a luxury he finds it difficult to indulge in when there’s work to be done.

He scrubs at his skin until it’s red and raw. He’ll sleep in the castle for the night and when it’s over he’ll fly back to Daibazaal and enjoy his week off, maybe go camping and explore the planet’s canyons with his hoverbike. He enjoys the desert-like landscape of Daibazaal; it reminds him of where he grew up. The almost perpetual twilight of the planet bathes the landscape in the same lights of an Arizona desert sunset. The ghost of old memories sometimes surface when he’s out there, but instead of the bitterness he usually feels from them, they feel sweet. Once, he sent a picture of his favorite camping spot to Shiro.

_wish you could see it in person_ , he typed underneath.

_Me too._

_why don’t you come visit then?_ is what Keith can’t ask.

Sometimes he prays for his feelings for Shiro to end, but the universe never answers his prayers. If the universe won’t take away his love for Shiro, the least it could do is mold that love into a less agonizing form. Loving Shiro like he loves Krolia would be acceptable. Loving Shiro like he loves Hunk, or Pidge, or Lance would be ideal. Then he wouldn’t feel any guilt at the thought of intruding into Shiro’s space. They could spend time together without Keith feeling like he’s doing something wrong.

He tried his best not to let Shiro’s marriage get between them, no matter how much it hurt his heart, but eventually he pulled away, knowing that what he wanted seeped into his every action. It’s better for them both of them if Keith stays away, and Shiro has made no move to change things. He seems content to see Keith once a year, never asking Keith to visit him and making no move to come after him on Daibazaal. A long-distance friendship is more than Keith deserves, really. If Shiro knew how Keith really felt he would be well within his rights to cut all ties with Keith.

Keith dries himself off with a fluffy, cyan towel. He decides to let his hair dry freely, not that he has much of a choice. His hairdryer is on his ship and he doesn’t know where one might be on the castle. Stupidly, he forgot to bring pajamas to change into and he isn’t going to put his dirty Blade uniform back on—that’s going straight into the wash the moment he’s home—leaving him with no choice but to grab one of the silk bathrobes Coran has hanging for guests. The material clings to his slightly wet skin but at least it’s something to wear while he walks back to his room. He’ll probably just take it off to sleep anyway; the real test will be tomorrow morning when he sneaks onto his ship for a change of clothes. Pidge might never forgive him if he accidentally flashes her.

Keith’s bare feet slap against the cold floor of the castle, echoing in the empty halls. He turns a corner and runs face first into an unexpected new wall blocking the hallway to his room.

“Keith?” the wall sputters.

At least Keith’s bathrobe hasn’t come undone. A small miracle he’s thankful for. He might have had to hurl himself into the nearest black hole if it did.

“Sor—“ Keith and Shiro start to say at the same time before cutting off to let the other talk.

An awkward silence falls over them. The cold sterile air of the castle makes Keith shiver. He gathers his courage and looks up to see Shiro’s face flushed in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” Keith tries again. “I didn’t expect anyone to be standing there.“

The bathrobe slipped off his shoulders in the collision. He adjusts it and can’t help but notice the way Shiro’s eyes follow the movement. His glasses are gone, left behind somewhere.

“Shiro?”

Shiro meets his eyes again. Warmth pools in Keith’s body. He recognizes that look, not from seeing it on Shiro’s face but from seeing it on the men he’s been—except this look is much more than what they ever gave him. Keith slides his robe off one shoulder; Shiro opens his mouth like he wants to take a bite.

Shiro is interested. In him. The knowledge makes Keith stupid.

He places a hand over Shiro’s heart and feels it beat against his palm through the thin material of his shirt.

“Keith.” Shiro’s tone is even but his heart is beating wildly, like it’s trying to escape from the prison of his chest.

“Shiro.”

Keith waits for Shiro’s decision, anticipating the moment when Shiro will push him away. Already he’s starting to convince himself that he imagined the desire in Shiro's eyes. Shiro doesn’t want him, not really. He’s only human and Keith is wandering around in nearly nothing. A biological reaction, the shock to see Keith, his friend and almost brother, in a way he hasn’t before, is making him act out of character.

But he doesn’t push Keith away. He stares transfixed at Keith’s bare collar.

“Shiro,” Keith says again, his voice raspy.

Shiro is married, and Keith doesn’t know his husband well but he at least knows Shiro’s marriage is happy, and that should be enough to stop him from going any further but the guilt he usually feels is gone. It’s easy to feel guilty when Shiro isn’t interested. It’s not as easy when Shiro is looking at him like he wants to take him apart.

Keith raises his chin slowly, impressed with himself for keeping it together enough not to tremble. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared. He’s never been more terrified in his life. He’s standing at the edge of a cliff with not a single idea of what’s waiting for him at the bottom if he jumps.

Shiro stares down at him, frozen in place. Keith has never had to seduce anyone before. He doesn’t know what to do, how to get Shiro to act.

He puts everything into his voice, hoping it won’t fail him. “Shiro.”

Shiro puts his arm around Keith’s waist. Keith leaps off the cliff.

He stands on his tip-toes to reach Shiro’s lips. A jolt of fear runs through him when Shiro doesn’t immediately kiss him back. He pulls away and thinks he might cry. He pushes Shiro’s chest, trying to escape before he makes a bigger fool of himself. He doesn’t get to cry because Shiro won’t cheat on his husband. Keith is the one in the wrong.

Shiro bends overs and catches Keith’s sobs, swallowing them down like honey. The adrenaline makes Keith frantic. He chases after Shiro’s lips, unable to get enough. He’s never kissed someone he’s loved like Shiro before.

“Keith.” Shiro has to fight him to get out any words. “We should—my room.”

A good idea if they don’t want to get caught by one of the other paladins. Keith nods into a kiss, unwilling to take his lips off of Shiro for something as unnecessary as talking.

Shiro’s prosthetic arm grabs his ass and lifts him up; Keith yelps in surprise. He grabs onto Shiro’s neck to hold on, but it’s unnecessary—Shiro isn’t going to drop him, not even if Keith is distracting him with his tongue. A lucky thing as Keith does exactly that as Shiro carries him to his room.

Keith expects to be thrown impatiently onto the bed. Instead, Shiro lays him down gently, like something precious.

Keith feels like crying again.

Shiro carefully unites the cord holding Keith’s bathrobe together and parts the light material from Keith’s skin. Keith feels like a treasured artifact being unwrapped for display in Shiro’s own personal museum.

“Oh,” Shiro says with surprise, and a little jolt of panic runs through Keith. Something isn’t right. Shiro doesn’t like what he sees; the reality of Keith’s scars are unappealing, he isn’t Shiro’s type, his—

Shiro grabs the head of his cock and Keith makes a noise he’s certain he’s never made before. He covers his mouth in embarrassment.

“Don’t,” Shiro says, his hand sliding on Keith’s cock. When Keith doesn’t obey the prosthetic arm pins his wrists above him. The arm’s hold on him is light; Keith can break away if he wants to.

He doesn’t want to.

Shiro doesn’t take his eyes off of Keith. It makes Keith feel more exposed than wearing nothing but an undone bathrobe does. Keith stops holding back his reactions when he realizes how much Shiro wants them, and how much he relies on them.

Shiro is still fully dressed and Keith can’t even point out the unfairness of it because every word he tries to say escapes him as a name.

“Shiro—”

His strokes are ruthless, almost cruel, so different from the gentle way he peeled off Keith’s robe. Keith’s tiny moans make it clear how much he likes the roughness of it.

Shiro leans down and parts his mouth to suck Keith off. The visual alone makes Keith nearly lose it. The actual feeling of it pushes him over the edge. The room flares with light, a sign that his eyes aren’t currently human.

His heightened vision lets him see his own come dripping down for Shiro’s mouth in perfect clarity. He has enough sense to try to wipe it off, but not enough dexterity to succeed in doing more than spreading it across Shiro’s jaw.

Shiro laughs, not unkindly, and wipes his face on Keith’s bathrobe, ruining it.

“Shiro,” Keith whines, an admonishment, a plea. Shiro seems to understand. He takes off his shirt and tosses it to the side before pressing down on Keith, his weight a comfort for Keith. Keith licks into his mouth and for a while, the only sound in the room is the wet smack of their lips.

Shiro brushes the scar on his face and it’s only then that Keith realizes Shiro isn’t wearing his wedding ring. He doesn’t know when Shiro took it off—was he wearing it in the hallway? Keith isn’t sure, but he does know it was there during dinner.

His lungs suddenly can’t get enough air; he pushes Shiro off to breathe.

“Your ring,” he says, grabbing Shiro’s hand.

Shiro has enough presence of mind to look embarrassed, maybe even ashamed. “I took it off.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” Keith says. He doesn’t want to talk about this actually. He rolls onto his side and tries to go back to kissing Shiro, but Shiro turns his head away.

“Keith, I don’t want to—”

“You don’t want to what?” Keith snaps, his eyes blazing in defiance.

Shiro takes a moment, watching Keith with careful consideration. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s a little too late for that.”

Shiro’s breath catches, his eyes widening before his expression settles into something regretful and apologetic, which is more than Keith feels he deserves. It’s not Shiro’s fault he doesn’t feel the same way as Keith does.

“It’s okay,” Keith says, “I’m okay. I’m used to it.” Perhaps it’s the wrong thing to say.

The lines on Shiro’s face when he frowns are stronger than Keith remembers.v“Used to what?” Shiro asks.

“You know.” Keith looks around the room and sees Shiro’s wedding ring on the nightstand, gleaming in the pale moonlight. “Being the one no one wants to keep.”

“Keith, that’s not—” He shakes his head. “That’s not it.” He looks pained now, which is even worse.

“It’s okay, Shiro.” He tangles his hands in Shiro’s hair, soothing him.

Shiro laughs, and this time it _is_ unkind, but it’s not aimed at Keith. “I don’t know why you’re the one apologizing.”

“Please—I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He squirms, pulling Shiro back over him and sighing when Shiro’s bare chest presses against him. Talk

Shiro leaves a trail of kisses across his skin. He lingers on Keith’s shoulder scar, as if by kissing he can undo the damage. The attention is sweeter than Keith’s best dreams. He wants to return the favor. Actions, not words, are his forte. The way he feels about Shiro is expressed through what he does, and this is the only chance to show the full extent of it.

Keith flips them over, jolting a small noise of surprise out of Shiro. Did he forget how strong Keith is? Keith pushes back Shiro’s bangs and lets his eyes wander. Retirement hasn’t dulled Shiro’s muscles; he must be doing something to keep in shape. Not that it matters much, Keith will always adore him. It’s an inescapable truth. Scars litter Shiro’s chest, angry vicious marks from his time in the arena. Except, this body never fought in the arena. Every scar Shiro has was put there in a laboratory. Keith hates Honerva for what she did to Shiro, but her actions saved his life. His feelings toward her are complicated. Keith pushes her out of his mind before he can get too angry, and takes his time trying to commit Shiro’s scars to memory. This night has to last him the rest of his life.

“Keith?” Shiro asks nervously.

He’s been ogling Shiro for too long. Keith kisses Shiro’s shoulder where his skin meets the port for his arm. There will always be an amount of guilt that lingers in Keith for being the reason Shiro lost the rest of his arm. At least Keith’s actions freed Shiro from the pain Honerva’s arm caused him. Curiosity drives Keith to explore the glowing port. He sticks his fingers into the cyan energy circle; it doesn’t particularly feel like anything. The energy might as well be air. When he pushes in deeper his fingers meet cool metal and Shiro shudders.

“You can feel that?” Keith asks as he drags his fingers across the port, watching the way Shiro’s breath hitches.

“Sort of,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate.

Keith explores the plains of his chest next, enjoying the way Shiro squirms underneath him when Keith touches somewhere he particularly likes. He buckles when Keith’s nails scratch at a raised bud, just the lightest tease. Keith can’t help the smirk that crosses his face. He likes seeing Shiro’s struggle to stay composed because of something he did.

The smirk earns him a glare, but it’s easy enough to wipe it off Shiro’s face with a light pinch of his nipples. Shiro buckles again, his hard cock rubbing against Keith’s thighs.

“Oh,” Keith says. It’s his turn to be surprised. Shiro is _hard_. Because of _Keith_. He did that to Shiro. Suddenly, the most important thing in the universe is to get Shiro out of the rest of his clothing.

Keith roughly tugs at Shiro’s clothing, impatience getting the best of him. If he can’t get Shiro’s pants off he might just rip them. Shiro hisses, tries to tell him to slow down, but Keith reaches his goal and barely registers what he’s saying. Underneath him, Shiro is undressed and waiting.

He’s big, almost stupidly so, which Keith expected when h imagined such things, but the reality of it is still overwhelming. Not that he’s complaining—quite the opposite.

All the warning Shiro gets before Keith puts his cock in his mouth is the slightest parting of his lips.

“Keith!”

Keith immediately loves the heaviness of it in his mouth. Shiro might have to pry him off. Getting Shiro’s cock inside him is going to be a challenge but he knows he can do it. The Galra he’s slept with have certainly redefined what he thought was possible to handle.

Shiro’s cock hits the back of his throat and a deep, primal part of him makes him close his eyes in satisfaction. The taste of him is driving Keith wild. He bobs his head while Shiro strokes his hair. It feels so damn _good_. The soft tugs at his scalp are making him drift off. His chest begins to rumble.

“Shit, are you purring?”

Keith pulls back, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I know it’s weird. If you don’t touch my head, it won’t happen.” He hopes. He’s not always sure what triggers it, but he does know that touching his head like Shiro did nearly always does it.

“That wasn’t a complaint,” Shiro says meaningfully.

“Oh,” Keith says.

The vibrations must be doing something for Shiro because he can’t stop playing with Keith’s hair, tugging at it in all the ways Keith likes until Keith feels like his purring can be heard from another room. He’s never been this loud before; his embarrassment usually takes over by now but with Shiro, he lets go and enjoys the moment.

“Wait,” Shiro says. Keith stops his sucking and looks up innocently with half of Shiro’s cock in his mouth. Shiro sees past his feigned innocence and yanks him off his cock by grabbing him by his hair. Keith goes docile from the pressure at his scalp.

“Mmm?” Keith’s mind feels fuzzy.

“I don’t want to come yet. Can we—can I—”

“Yes,” Keith says without knowing the full question. He wants anything and everything from Shiro.

The part of Keith’s mind that isn’t in a haze knows what they’re doing is sabotaging the friendship he’s tried so hard to cling to. After tonight everything he fought the universe for will be taken from him. Shiro is a good person. He won’t want to have anything to do with Keith after this. It feels like a fair price to pay when Shiro is pressing him into a mattress; he hopes it will still feel fair when he wakes up to an empty bed.

Shiro stands up and Keith’s heart beats frantically; he feels convinced it’s already time for Shiro to leave him. His panic must be obvious because Shiro soothes him with a kiss to the forehead when he returns.

“Can I?” Shiro asks, and this time he makes his request clear.

Keith nods, perhaps too enthusiastically because Shiro lets out a small huff of laughter that makes Keith smile in return. Being with Shiro is easy. Terrifying, but easy. Maybe the ease of it is why it’s so terrifying. He’ll never feel this way with another person, only Shiro. No one else will ever fit so rightly into his life.

Shiro traces his rim before slipping a finger inside of him. He doesn’t know what Shiro is using for lube—maybe it’s something he brought from Earth, or else something he found in the castle—but whatever it is, it works. Shiro is able to add a second finger soon enough. When the third one slips in, Shiro hits that spot inside of him that makes him see stars.

Keith pushes back against Shiro’s fingers, but they’re not enough. He needs _more_.

“Shiro,” he whines, “please.”

Shiro doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s not here to tease Keith; there’s no point. Their time together is limited.

Shiro lines up himself up and begins to push himself inside. The stretch makes Keith dizzy. Shiro is _so_ big. He isn’t going to fit, he can’t, it’s impossible. It was easier fitting Shiro in his mouth than this.

“Relax.” Shiro kisses his brow and pets Keith’s head, which helps things along. Keith nuzzles Shiro’s palm and tries his best to do what Shiro asked. He _can_ do it. He wants to. He wants Shiro’s cock inside of him.

When Shiro is fully seated Keith feels like weeping—not from pain or relief but from what it does to his heart having Shiro like this. They’re joined and Keith is never going to be able to unknow this feeling.

Before he can make a fool of himself, Keith starts to buck his hips, encouraging Shiro to move. Shiro obliges and it’s Keith’s downfall.

His nerves are on fire. Everywhere Shiro touches is too much and not enough. It’s an entirely new experience, having sex with someone that makes his heart feel as full as the rest of him.

“More,” Keith says. “More.”

Shiro grabs Keith’s legs and puts them on his shoulder. The angle is deeper and Keith can’t move from the way Shiro holds him down. He feels his teeth grow sharp and knows his eyes must be yellow. If Shiro is bothered by his Galra features, he does nothing to show it.

Keith isn’t fragile, a fact Shiro accepts embraces with enthusiasm. He holds nothing back, using all of his weight and strength to fuck Keith, until Keith wonders how much more Shiro’s bed can take before it collapses underneath them.

“Shiro.” He wants to hold him. “Please, want to—touch.” Words are hard, but Shiro must understand because he adjusts them again and lets Keith grab onto his back. Like his teeth, Keith’s nails are sharper and less human, more claws than actual nails. A cruel part of him thinks about the marks he’s leaving on Shiro’s back and what Curtis might do when he sees them. What excuse will Shiro come up with? Attacked by a wild animal? Curtis might believe it. Keith’s claw marks might look inhuman enough to pull the lie off.

Keith comes first. Shiro fucks him through it, following not long after. He pulls Keith into his arms and kisses him, oblivious to the internal war Keith is fighting. Reality is crashing down on him. The feelings he tried to keep hidden have more than just surfaced—they’re out in the open, suffocating him.

He tries, he really does, to keep it together long enough to lick his wounds in private but a gentle caress of his facial scar breaks him. He lets out a sob he can’t take back and it’s the breaking of a dam. He cries, feeling anger and shame, and a deep longing that makes him wish he could take it all back. He was wrong. Losing Shiro’s friendship isn’t the price he has to pay. It’s having to live the rest of his life knowing exactly what it would feel like if Shiro loved him. There’s no gift to knowing. It’s a curse that’s going to hang over him until the day his soul finally rots away.

“Keith? Hey, don’t—don’t cry. You’re all right. I’ve got you.” Shiro sits up and pulls Keith into his lap to hold him; all it does is make Keith cry harder.

“Why?” Keith chokes out. “Why him? Why not me?”

“I don’t have a good answer for you. He was there and I thought he was what I wanted.”

Keith can’t bring himself to believe the regret in Shiro’s but he wants to pretend, just for the night, that Shiro is sincere.

“I was there,” he says into Shiro’s chest.

“No, you weren’t.” The words sting. Keith wants to deny them. “I didn’t let you be. I kept pushing you, and everyone, away. By the time I figured out what I really wanted, it was too late.”

“Choose me instead.” Keith’s voice shakes. Shiro holds him tighter, his metal arm digging into Keith’s skin.

“I did. I am. But you shouldn’t choose me back. All you’ll get with me will be people whispering behind your back. You’re better off finding someone you don’t have to sacrifice anything to be with.”

Keith almost laughs. He would give up almost anything to be Shiro. That’s never been the issue. What is, is that Shiro doesn’t want him. Keith wishes he would just say it plainly instead of coming up with excuses.

“I don’t care what other people think of me,” Keith says. _I only care what you think of me._

“I’m past my prime. You deserve someone young.”

Keith does laugh this time. The idea that Shiro is too old for him is absurd on every level. “The last guy I dated was over three hundred years old.”

“I’m not worth it.”

“You’re worth everything,” Keith says, looking into Shiro’s eyes with conviction.

“What am I going to do with you?” Shiro huffs fondly, brushing back Keith’s hair.

_Choose me_ , Keith almost says again but he’s tired of this game. Shiro has an endless list of excuses to avoid rejecting Keith outright. He wishes Shiro would just have the courage to break his heart.

Keith presses Shiro down into the mattress and kisses him softly. The rest of his tears will have to wait for the morning. The night isn’t over yet. He can still pretend Shiro is his.

Shiro sighs into his mouth sweetly and Keith wishes he could stay in this moment forever. He loses all sense of time, content to keep kissing Shiro until he falls asleep, but then he feels Shiro's hard cock brush against his thighs and kissing no longer feels like enough.

“Can I?” Keith asks.

“Yes,” Shiro whispers.

Keith braces himself on Shiro’s chest as he sinks down, blinking back tears that he tells himself are from the stretch and not from the hopeless loneliness in his heart. Shiro feels even bigger like this but he doesn’t panic this time. A slight bump protrudes from his otherwise flat stomach, something he didn’t notice before. He raises his hips tentatively and watches in awe as the bump moves with him.

Keith takes things slower than Shiro did. He wants every feeling to last, regardless of how much it will hurt to think back to this night.

More than his own pleasure, it’s Shiro’s that’s his undoing. The way his face contorts, the sound he makes from deep in his throat, the feel of his come coating Keith’s insides and dripping down his thighs—all of it Keith commits to memory before throws his head back and follows after Shiro.

He collapses on Shiro, tired and sticky and barely awake. He needs to clean up, needs to drag himself out of Shiro’s bed. It will hurt less to wake up alone in his own room. But he can barely find the energy to open his eyelids, let alone move. Shiro murmurs something against his skin, but he doesn’t quite catch it.

Exhaustion overtakes him, dragging him down into a dreamless sleep.

♢

Keith buries himself deeper into his blanket, not wanting to get up from the warm bed. His body is sore, and there’s dull ache at his backside. His sleepy mind puzzles over it, trying to remember what he did the day before.

The blankets slide off of him as he jolts awake in his—Shiro’s bed. His heart jackhammers in his chest as he registers the empty spot next to him. Shiro is gone, like Keith knew he would be. Keith didn’t hear him leave. He slept too deeply, tired already when he arrived on Altea without the night’s events to exhaust him further. He can tell from the strength of the sun through the windows that it’s late morning, if not early afternoon. No chance for him now to sneak back onto his ship unnoticed. He can’t wear a stained bathrobe; he’ll have to suck it up and put on his dirty Blade uniform.

He looks around the room, scrambling to remember where he left his uniform when he spots a small, dark suitcase on the floor.

He doesn’t understand. Why? Why is Shiro’s suitcase still here?

The door slides open and Shiro walks in; his hair is wet and a bundle of familiar dark clothes is in his hand.

“Good morning. Or good afternoon. I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t wake you. You left your uniform in the showers, by the way.”

Keith stares at him in shock. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m sorry?” Shiro asks, frowning as he sets Keith’s neatly folded uniform on the bed, Keith’s hair tie on top of the pile.

“You should be gone. Back to Earth. Back to Curtis.” The name is ash on Keith’s tongue.

Shiro sits down on the bed beside him, the frown still etched onto his face. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No?” If Shiro wants to fuck him one last time before crawling back to his husband, so be it. Keith’s morals left the premises a long time ago.

“Okay, that’s good. Why did you think I was gone?”

The ring on Shiro’s finger is still missing, but it’s not on the nightstand when Keith looks for it.

“To go back to Curtis.” Keith feels like he’s woken up in an alternate reality.

“Well, eventually I have to go back and break the news to him but I’m not in a rush.” Shiro looks at him uncertainly. “Unless you want me to be?”

“Break what news to him?”

Shiro grabs his hand and squeezes. “Keith, you’re not having second thoughts, are you? I know you said you don’t care about what anyone else thinks, but I’d—I’d understand if you’ve changed your mind.” He trails off nervously, his prosthetic hand floating unnaturally behind him.

“Shiro, I think—I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

Shiro snaps his flesh hand back from Keith like he’s been burned and it’s all the confirmation Keith needs.

“I didn’t think you meant it. What you said last night. But I wanted you to. I wanted you to choose me.” Keith’s voice cracks.

“Oh, Keith.” Shiro holds out his arm; Keith accepts the invitation and buries his face in the soft material of Shiro’s shirt. He feels like an idiot. He feels like he’s dreaming. There’s no way Shiro feels the same way about him. How? How could he when he married someone else? Keith doesn’t understand. Why didn’t he talk to Keith? Why did they spend years in an awkward long-distance friendship?

“I’m angry at you,” Keith says, because he is. If everything Shiro said last night was true, all the heartache Keith went through could have been prevented.

“I’m angry at me too. All that time wasted.” Keith thinks about all the years they could have had together. The life they might have now without this detour. He mourns it like a missing limb, his imagination creating phantom pains. If he isn’t careful, his bitterness over what could have been will ruin what could still be. He has to let go of his anger.

“We have the rest of our lives to make up for it,” Keith says. He leans back and pulls Shiro on top of him.

“Yeah,” Shiro replies as he goes to kiss him.

Keith doesn’t make it out of bed until Altea’s sun is high in the sky. He doesn’t care who sees him as he walks back to his ship in Shiro’s clothes. As much as Keith never wants to let him go again, they both decide it’s best if Shiro heads back to Earth alone to gather his things. Keith will be waiting for him on Daibazaal. He isn’t nervously worrying this time that Shiro isn’t being sincere because before leaving, Shiro gave him his wedding ring to decide what to do with. Keep, destroy, sell—the decision is entirely up to Keith.

Keith wastes an escape pod just so he can jettison it into a dying star.

♢

The ceremony is a private affair. Kolivan officiates; the only guests are Krolia and Kosmo. Shiro was right. Keith’s reputation is in tatters. He’s the villain of the story. He bears the brunt of people’s gossip. The innocent trysts he’s had are used to malign him even further. If he really cared about Shiro he would have never dared to sleep with someone else. He should have died alone, satisfied by simply knowing Shiro was happy. A good person rots away with a smile on their face.

Keith’s reputation is the reason they don’t invite any of their friends to the wedding. Acxa doesn’t care what anyone says about Keith—few of the Galra do. But Keith doesn’t want to make things awkward for her; she has friends at the Garrison that aren’t fond of Keith. It’s the same story for the rest of the Paladins. Maybe one day they’ll have a larger celebration, but for now, this is enough. This makeshift wedding on a faraway planet, on a beach of red sand next to a lilac ocean, is for them.

Kolivan weaves ancient Galran blessings and Earth phrases to make vows that are the best of everything. Shiro beams down at him the entire ceremony like he can’t believe how lucky he is to be there with Keith.

When Kolivan finishes, Shiro takes the veil covering the lower half of Keith’s face and throws it into the sand. The veil is a Galra tradition; it’s the same light lilac as the water. All of Keith’s robes are. He doesn’t want anything to remind him of Shiro’s first wedding. He doesn’t tell Shiro that but he thinks Shiro realizes it anyway; he wears a dark suit that’s more violet than black.

They can’t have back the time they lost, but that goes for everything in life. He can’t hold onto the good moments any more than he can the bad. Time doesn’t stop for anyone. But that doesn’t bother him when he has a future with Shiro to look forward to.

Shiro kisses him tenderly, a promise that goes beyond any words in a vow. Waves crash onto the shore, almost reaching their altar. Kosmo nuzzles between them, wanting their attention. Shiro pulls away and the smile on his face is the most beautiful thing Keith has ever seen. He would break a thousand hearts for Shiro’s smile.

They exchange rings and it’s Keith’s turn to smile like he doesn’t know how to be unhappy. The ring looks like it was always meant to be on his hand. He thinks he might never take it off.

**Author's Note:**

> well, this fic didn't cooperate at all. I just wanted to write some horny cheating but [waves hands] that happened instead.
> 
> I have a problem and that problem is called writing sheith weddings. this is wedding #3....help.


End file.
